


Two Sides Of A Coin

by iceyly



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceyly/pseuds/iceyly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-Shot Series - "...I guess, I could do worse," Rogue told him after a moment of thought, when Sting had proposed that nickname. </p><p>"Worse than what?" </p><p>"Worse than you for a twin."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes years until Rogue wonders if they had always been intended to be a matched set.

It takes years until Rogue wonders if they had always been intended to be a matched set, if Weißlogia and Skiadrum had known from the start that one day they would find each other, and that once that happened they would fall into place like they had never been apart. They must have, because among the last things that Skiadrum had taught him before illness had wasted her to the point where it hadn't been a question of 'if' but of 'when', had been about the ways that light and shadow could overlap, about the fact that shadow and light  _always_  come as a set, that there can never be one without another and that if combined correctly there was nothing stronger than light and shadow bound together into one.

He hadn't given it much thought after his foster parent's death, had rather buried his grief and guilt and gone out to see the world, to chase after Phantom Lord and Gajeel, had spent a year more or less under the wing of the elder Dragon Slayer, fearing and admiring him alike, and drifted onto wandering again the moment Phantom fell apart and Gajeel moved on to Fairy Tail for reasons that Ryos wouldn't understand until a name change, a furred and winged cat-partner, years spent in the same guild and team and not one but two fights that had gotten him his ass handed later.

Falling into step had never been a problem, not in the early days - before Sabertooth, before the Twin Dragons had become well known all across Fiore - and certainly not later, because for all that they had both changed, for all they had to adapt to their new home, they will always be the Twin Dragons and they've known that from the very moment they first met. 

_(For better or worse, they will always be two sides of the same coin.)_

* * *

He can still remember the smell of decaying linen, faint smoke and cheap beer that had clung to the small room they'd both ended up being stuck together into, the cheapest room of the cheapest inn of Magnolia, six months after the main force of Fairy Tail had disappeared, and he remembers the faint sounds of Lector ranting upon realizing that he and Sting had gotten roommates forced upon them ("Sting-kun shouldn't have to put up with this!") , but what he remembers most is the expression on Stings face.

It had probably mirrored his own, puzzlement and confusion at this sense of familiarity slowly giving way to understanding - they are the same - and he remembers Sting grinning at him, small fangs gleaming - there is another Dragon Slayer, it's not just him - while he shushes Lector with a gesture and says: "Fancy meeting you here."

And Rogue can feel the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile that he usually reserves for Frosch as he replies: "Yeah... Fancy that."

From that night on it's impossible to think of them as anything but together anymore - not after that night, not after all the things they'd shared then and the decisions they made that night on a rooftop in Magnolia and from the next day on they are leaving the town and the past behind them and are facing the path of becoming Dragon Slayers in their own right.

_(Natsu and Gajeel are no longer there and now they are all that is left of the Dragon Slayer. Their future is all of their own making from now on.)_

* * *

Everything changes when they are sought out and challenged by Minerva one day and do well enough in that fight to be asked to joined Sabertooth, so that they can help it rise to greatness.

_(It's the very first time their team work fails, that fighting together becomes a handicap rather than an asset and despite the invitation that follows, the defeat is bitter and they both swear to themselves and to each other that they will never will be used against each other that way ever again.)_

It's strange and exciting to be part of a guild now, and admittedly Rogue may or may not have yearned just a little for the moment they find one that suits them, because he remembers Gajeel and Phantom Lord and thinking that he just wish he was old enough to join. It's different too, because for all that he might have hoped for easy acceptance - they are all mages here, right? - they are met with wariness, looked at with scrutiny despite the fact that it was the Young Mistress that brought them in and it isn't until the very first Grand Magical Games they enter that that changes. 

It's that moment down in the arena, when they enter the tag team battle on the very last day fully knowing that this is their turn to fight, to cement Sabertooth's reputation as the very strongest and for all that they might lack in age and experience they bring in will - they are Dragon Slayers after all. It's that moment, that victory that brings them their name and their reputation - the Twin Dragons of Sabertooth - that wins them their guild mates respect and Sabertooth the seat of the strongest of Fiore, and Rogue smiles while Sting laughs loudly and punches up into the sky. There is no stopping them now.

_(It's their time to soar in the heavens and roar with pride.)_

_\--- Fin ---_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 1/10/14: Updated to fit as mirror with Chapter 04! :3

 

They used to be closer, Rogue sometimes dares thinking on starry nights when Sting and he out of town for a job while he watches their campsite fire stretching the shadows long and listens to the sounds of Sting’s faint snores as he keeps night watch.

_(Five years ago, he would have felt the weight of his back against his outstretched leg. Nowadays, physical contact between them is more exception than rule.)_

It’s a ridiculous thought of course, because they are so much stronger now than they were before Sabertooth, before their devastating loss against the Young Mistress and the resulting recruitment into the guild – five years ago, they hadn’t developed the fighting patterns they use now, hadn’t been even near thinking of using (never mind mastering) Dragon Force or Unison Raid and if that isn’t proof that they are just as close, or even closer than ever before, then Rouge doesn’t know what would be.

Still, there is no denying the mannerisms they have lost since entering Sabertooth, because Rogue recalls the times when he would have answered Sting’s teasing with a similar remark, when their mock arguments would have resulted in a mock-shoving match, when he would have found Sting’s fingers in his hair (pulling just hard enough to bother him, but not enough to actually hurt) and his own tugging at Sting’s cheek. He remembers the times afterwards when they had dissolved into laughter and reconciled through a faint touch of forehead to forehead in mutual unspoken apology.

Their first year together had been full of moments like that, a time of getting to know each other and yet also just  _knowing_  each other and just so many moments of lighthearted silliness in between that can only be found in memory anymore.

_(“So, since we are twins now…” he remembers Sting asking, back that evening when he had come up with that moniker, long before they had ever even heard of Sabertooth._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Who is the older one?”_

_“Since we are twins, there is no older one.”_

_“That’s not how it works, stupid. There is always an older one.”_

_“…You do remember that we aren’t actually twins, right?”_

_“But I thought we just decided we were.”_

_Rogue is pretty sure that that had been the moment he had first caught on properly just how much Sting likes to pick fights with him – and also other people – at times.)_

The last time they had gotten into that kind of scuffle that had been normal, almost like breathing, beforehand was within their first month in Sabertooth. It’s unsightly behavior for any member of the strongest guild after all.

Nowadays, when Sting teases, he quickly takes a turn into almost outright nastiness – even when it’s Rogue he teases – and so Rogue has taken to shutting him off before he can get there by retreating into indifference.

_(Sting used to call him on that. He rarely bothers to anymore.)_

* * *

 

Indifference is his general state-of-being nowadays, Rogue knows, because it’s the easiest to feign, and the only way to brush off all the things that bother him about Sabertooth, about the way that Sting and he himself have changed. He has learned early on that it’s easier to pretend not to care whenever he witnesses a (soon former) guild mate being dressed down most literally by the Master, when he watches punishments so brutal and humiliating that he averts his eyes by the end to allow the recipient to retain at least some dignity.

He knows Sting isn’t bothered by any of it, not like he is.

_(Sting proves as much over and over, the first time when Marie is dismissed and every single other time when Rogue can’t bring himself to hold his tongue, for all that he grows better at that as the time passes. He proves it again when they argue over Yukino’s dismissal – for all that they both know that it’s undeserved, for all that Rogue knows that Sting had liked her; they both had._

_“She disappeared because she’s weak,” Sting says. “The strongest guild had no need for her, right?”_

_“You are on probation,” Rogue doesn’t say. “What will you say if it’s you that gets booted out? What will you say if it’s me?”_

_But that is an impossible thought, isn’t it, because the cause of Sting’s probation was bad luck and when they will be called to fight during the tag battle – as they surely will – losing will not be an option. They are their strongest together after all.)_

Maybe it’s because Sting has never known any guild other than Sabertooth.

Rogue hasn’t either, admittedly, at least not as a member, but he vividly remembers Phantom Lord, louder and so much bigger than their guild, and fairly similar in attitude, but… there had been bonds there.

_(He remembers the Element Four and how well they had been able to coordinate. He remembers the lower divisions, the laughter, the more or less friendly competition there._

_He remembers Kurogane Gajeel – strongest member and right hand man of Master Jose, Dragon Slayer like him and yet so, so much stronger – leaning down and telling him to keep watch on it all while he was on mission, to watch and report him anything of importance because while Gajeel had never particular cared much for gossip it was still important to be aware of it, and who would ever dare to accuse cute, shy, wide-eyed Ryos of spying even knowing just who exactly had allowed him to hang around the guild hall in first place._

_He remembers that even beneath his gruffness and outright brutality, Gajeel had cared about his guild and its members… or at least some of them. More or less.)_

There had been bonds in Phantom Lord, and in Sabertooth there are none at all – not even between The Strongest Five; outside of the unit that is the Twin Dragons that is and even that bond is one that Rogue doubts just a little sometimes.

The only bond he’d never dare to doubt is his bond to Frosch and he knows for certain, Sting and Lector are the same. Their cat partners come before everything, even each other; they’ve decided that long before joining Sabertooth.

That night, Natsu-san storms Crocus Garden, all fire and lightning as he challenges the Master and Rogue just watches breathlessly.

“If you are a guild, take care of your comrades”, he says after the Young Mistress breaks up the fight and forces him to leave, and Rogue can’t help but wonder what that kind of guild might be like and never has the lack of bonds within their guild weighted more on him.

When he glances at Sting, when he wonders about his thoughts, all he sees is his partner’s anticipation of the fight to come.

_(Neither of them goes back to sleep that night or gets much of it the next, but for very different reasons.)_

* * *

It’s funny in the absolutely most unfunny way how much can change in one afternoon, after just one loss. Just one loss – utterly devastating, and in too many ways much worse than the one they had suffered against the Young Mistress – is all it takes to disgrace them to their Master and their guild in spite of five years of excellent work.

_(Rogue has known that this day might come, that it might hit one of them. He’s wondered what he’s supposed to do if it’s Sting. He’s wondered what Sting will do, if it’s himself._

_He’s never considered that it might be both of them at once._

_Maybe he should have.)_

It’s even funnier (still in the absolutely most unfunny way) to watch the façade Sting has built in response to their guild’s philosophy crumbling instantly at the loss of Lector, to see the sides of Sting that have been buried for five years, to realize that Sting cares after all (even if he might not quite realize himself, even if his method of burying it all is very different from Rogue’s), that the Sting he sees right now is stronger than he’s ever been.

There is absolutely nothing funny about the things that follow though, about the way Minerva pushes Sting or the weight of devastation and despair that keeps his partner on his knees.

_(Rogue helps him to his feet when the assembly around them finally falls apart in unease and faint confusion of what had just happened, guides him back to his room and withdraws to his own just as quick. He has Frosch to consider and staying around Sting will probably only serve as reminder of Lector’s absence for them all._

_They spent the next day on scheming and planning and guessing at the game to come – and though they come out of it with a strategy for Sting and a target for Rogue, he is uneasy about the day to come._

_The fights ahead aren’t what either of them wants, but maybe they have long gone past the point where their desires matter.)_

In hindsight, the biggest joke of all is probably Rogue’s fight against Gajeel though, utterly half-hearted in spite of all the time he had worked towards it and the fact that he had almost given it up, despite his resolve to do his best for Sting and Lector and for their guild – for what it might become under the Young Mistress (but who is he kidding, it will be just more of the same, won’t it?), or of the challenge he speaks the moment he suggests that Gajeel might be inferior to Natsu-san.

It’s then that his own walls finally crumble for good, that the mask of indifference melts away and Rogue confesses his frustration and despair to the man he’s always admired like no other (even during the times he’s denied as much), who probably doesn’t even remember a Midget as insignificant as Ryos had been and saying it all out loud is a relief like no other.

Not half a minute later, he lets his temper flare properly for the first time in years in defense of Frosch, lets it all go not two sentences later, and even though he knows that it’s his loss already, Rogue doesn’t mind showing that weakness or admitting that he  – their whole guild really – is no match at all for Gajeel and Fairy Tail; not anymore.

_(It’s then that his shadow whispers in his ear for the very first time and Rogue may or may not be a little more than slightly terrified of thinking too much about the minutes he’s missing from after that or about the fight there must have been between his shadow and Gajeel._

_Maybe the reason he is a little reluctant to linger on it can be found with the glimpses he’s seen of the injuries he’s caused the older Dragon Slayer and nothing is more chilling than the idea of bringing this upon anyone without any sort of control._

_It’s not a thought that’s all that appropriate while he watches the rest of the games with Frosch at his side, not when Gajeel has seemed to have chased away the shadow anyway.)_

It’s the first time in his life that a loss actually feels a little like a victory, maybe not for the guild, but definitely for Sting and Lector and maybe also for himself, for the person he wants to become.

_(“I want to become a man who treasures his friends,” he tells Frosch, and even though his body hurts and the memory of the shadow still echoes in his thoughts, for the first time in long, Rogue feels truly at peace.)_

 

* * *

 

“You look like someone put you through the meat grinder,” is the very first thing that slips out of Sting’s mouth after he enters Rogue’s room at their lodgings and catches him right while he’s examining the cut on the bridge of his nose in the mirror, bandages hanging loosely in his hands (he knows, it’s going to leave a scar).

Rogue tilts his head at him in reply, one eyebrow raised ever so faintly and notes with faint amusement how that’s enough to make Sting flinch just a little, but then decides to take a pity on him and try to dispel any awkwardness between them before it has any chance of forming properly. “I expect, Gajeel would appreciate the comparison.”

Sting laughs at that and grins a little ruefully as he takes the two steps needed to cross the distance between them and tugs lightly at the bandage in his hands.

_(“Come on, lemme take care of that,” he offers and Rogue would never think to decline him. Not now. Never again.)_

“You were right, you know…” Sting admits quietly as they sit on his bed and he gets busy carefully wrapping the white cloth around Rogue’s head, his voice so much more quiet than it usually is. “I couldn’t fight like that after all.”

Rogue just barely keeps himself from nodding at that; he doesn’t want to destroy Sting’s work and he’s witnessed the whole scene across the lacrima vision after all. There is nothing for him to add to that, is there?

“I get it now, I think…” Sting continues, maybe just almost uncharacteristically uncertain in that very moment, “Why Fairy Tail and Natsu-san are so strong… what our guild has been missing… You’ve been saying as much all the time already.”

Yes, he had, Rogue thinks, but he hadn’t been consequent about it.

_(But then again, that would have meant leaving the guild, leaving Sting… and that is one course of action that Rogue considers himself incapable of, no matter what differences in opinions they might have._

_He’d once told Sting that Sabertooth is home, but… in truth his home will always be right with Sting and Frosch.)_

“Are you mad at me?” Sting finally asks and doesn’t further specify – not that he needs to (not when there are all those minor things that have been left unspoken between them in the past five years, the rift neither of them had ever been willing to acknowledge, not quite), to force him to would be nasty in ways that Rogue has never felt comfortable with and now that Sting is finished with his face, he can actually shake his head.

“No.”

Sting’s shoulders drop very slightly in relief (nobody else would have noticed, but after nearly seven years of his constant company, Rogue couldn’t miss that if he tried), and he looks just as much at peace as Rogue has been feeling ever since the official announcement of Fairy Tail’s victory.

“We lost this one pretty badly, didn’t we?” he wonders with a shake of his head, while throwing himself back into a sprawl on Rogue’s bed and this Rogue definitely agrees with. 

“We were completely defeated.”

Not just as the Twin Dragons, but also as guild. Though, even in defeat they have won something unimaginably precious, Rogue thinks, distracted as he adjusts his coat so that it won’t slip from his shoulders. It’s not nearly as huge a loss as one might think.

“Hey, Rogue…”

Sting’s voice is much closer than he would have thought it when he speaks up again, and when Rogue turns his head to face him, he finds the other right in his personal space, foreheads touching ever so faintly in a way they haven’t in about five years (Rogue actually startles, but relaxes and leans forward into the gestures before Sting can even think about withdrawing again).

“When we get home, lets make this guild into one that cares for its members.”

Rogue laughs lightly and agrees easily.

“Alright.”

_(The weight of this touch hasn’t changed at all, he doesn’t say as he feels something shift in the air around them and within himself. Sting and he are in balance again in a way that Rogue hadn’t even realized he’s missed until right this second they’d found it again.)_

* * *

 

 

“So, what are you here for anyway?” Rogue asks after the minute of comfortable peace that followed; he doubts that Sting had actually meant to help him with his wounds or for this conversation to happen right away.

“Oh yeah… the King sent a messenger earlier. Something or other about wanting all the guilds to be on alert and meet outside on the big plaza half an hour before midnight. I couldn’t find the Young Mistress or the Master, so I figured I’d take that here first.”

“And you took till now to find that worth mentioning?!”

“Well, you looked so troubled by that gash on your nose…”

“Sting…”

“Sorry, sorry!”

_(No, he isn’t sorry at all, Rogue can tell. He can always tell.)_

“I do hope you actually informed someone else about this before getting here.”

“Rufus was with me when the messenger got in?”

“Good. Now, come on or we are going to be late.”

“What wait, do you actually have interest for once?”

“ _Sting._ ”

“Hey, it’s a valid question.”

_(Rogue feels absolutely justified in starting the two-minute-scuffle that follows that remark, even if it only delays them further._

_Punctuality has never been their strong point anyway.)_

—-  _Fin_  —-


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the "XIII. death — turning over a new leaf" prompt of the Major Arcana Writing Meme @ Tumblr
> 
> Just to clarify the timeline; this takes place way before Chapter 02 (and probably after Chapter 01). Sting and Rogue are 15-16ish.

When Sting awakens (as usual) with the first morning light and (quite less usual) to the feeling of faintly itching scratches, he almost wants to turn over and sleep the day away – insignificant as they may be overall to his wellbeing (they’ll be gone in a day or two), his stomach still clenches at the thought of what magic he has those scratches to thank for and it turns even further when he thinks of the marks that his own magic have left on Rogue.

It’s been less than a day since they’ve fought and this is the first time it’s been an actual  _fight_ , the very first time they escalated to the point of using their magic against one another outside of training. Arguing is nothing that hasn’t happened before, nor is letting it get physical, but there’s always been a set of unspoken rules they’ve both been aware of, they've both respected and kept to – not using magic being right on the top of that list – but usually their arguments only escalate when they are silly, usually when their arguments are serious, they try to keep them quiet, try to reach some sort of middle ground at least, because even though it’s barely been two years since they’ve met, being at odds puts them both off balance.

 _(There is no middle ground to be reached this time though, Sting thinks angrily as he shifts around the bed, because this time Rogue is just plain_ wrong _. He has to be.)_

Rogue is already up too, he knows – they are both morning people, drawn to the first of light and the way it stretches the shadows respectively – is lingering right outside his door at this very moment judging by the scent. The knowledge of that only increases the mix of anxiety and anger that is swirling in his gut, and Sting has to bury his fingers in covers and pillow to keep them from twitching, to keep them from reaching out.

Instinct tells him to get up and pull Rogue into his room, to let him apologize and to apologize himself, to fix what they’ve both broken, to let his fingers trail over the wounds he’s caused and let Rogue do the same, reassurance and test all the same, to tangle and brawl on the bed, tug strands of black hair away so that he can see the flash in his partner’s eyes that usually heralds his counterattack and feel pale fingers tugging on his cheek (a bother always, but never never never intending to hurt). Instinct is  _wrong,_ Sting knows, is clinging to mannerisms they are trying to shed because they are not appropriate for members of the Strongest Guild.

They’ve been through that lecture months ago – in very agonizing and deeply humiliating manner – and Sting has no desire for a repeat.

He remembers that this is the path they’ve chosen, and why – it’s been over a year since they’ve watched the broadcast of the very first Grand Magic Games and saw Fairy Tail utterly defeated, since they spent night upon night for a week talking it over again and again. Fairy Tail has always had a reputation for being a different sort of guild (Natsu-san’s guild, Gajeel-san’s guild), for being slightly crazy, for priding itself on its bonds and it’s those bonds that brought it down, because for all that they still have capable mages left, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the Tenrou incident has left them all broken, incapable of picking themselves up.

They won’t ever let themselves end like that, they had sworn then (an oath that Rogue must have forgotten already, but Sting will not), and all things considered, Sabertooth certainly won’t let them. Strength is absolute here, strength is  _everything_  and strong is what Sting aims to become.

_(Strong, strong, stronger than the Young Mistress. Stronger than Natsu-san. Stronger than anyone.)_

Sting sighs quietly in relieve when Rogue scent grows more faint – looks like he isn’t the only one unwilling to initiate round two of this argument – and turns his back to the door as he closes his eyes. A little more sleep will maybe magically make this day a little more bearable at least.

_(Sting doubts it.)_

* * *

It’s noon of the fourth day since their fight, three days of total silence in between them and Sting absolutely refuses to be the one to break it, because in the end the silence has become an extension of their argument and breaking first will mean admitting defeat (and for all that Sting is the louder one of them, for all that the lack of communication kind of drives him up the wall, he is too stubborn to concede). Instead he hangs out by himself – he is not hiding, no matter what Lector is saying – and enjoys the warmth of noon sun against his skin. It’s not like the light that feeds his magic, but it’s light all the same.

He doesn’t say anything when Lector arrives and sits down against his side, doesn’t even need to open his eyes to read his cat partner's mood and know that he wants to say something (wants to address the very literal dragon in the room… or on the roof, concerning another dragon on top of that) and that it has him faintly anxious, so Sting just lifts his hand and settles it on Lector’s head, gently letting his fingers scratch behind his ears as sign of reassurance – he isn’t mad at Lector, has no reason to be, and he has no intention of letting his current irritation with Rogue sour anything else – and just seconds later he can feel the cat relax.

"You should really talk to Rogue-kun," he says after leaving them a moment of blissful peace. "You are both overdoing it."

"I’ll talk to him when he stops being an idiot," Sting offers and lifts his hand off Lector’s head again so he can fold it with his other beneath his head and stare up into the endless blue of the sky. "If Rogue really wants to talk, he can come and find me here. It’s not like I’ve been hiding."

He decidedly ignores the faint noise of disagreement Lector makes, but he can’t quite do the same with the reply he actually gets. “Avoiding being anywhere near him is just as bad.”

_(The truth that’s ringing there almost has Sting squirm in discomfort. Almost.)_

"You really should give him the opportunity to meet you halfway at least," Lector pleads after another moment. "Frosch has been upset ever since you guys fought."

In the end, that's the argument that has Sting climbing down from the roof of the church’s clock tower and return the more neutral grounds of their guild, because the idea of upsetting Frosch makes him feel about as much of a jerk as the idea of deliberately kicking puppies, kittens, bunnies and equally cute things.

_(It’s not because he admits that Lector is right and he’s just as much at fault as Rogue in this.)_

* * *

Sure enough, it’s not even an hour after Sting has returned to the guild and settled at one of the large balconies at back of the building that Rogue finds him, face almost totally blank of emotion, almost but not quite… not that it matters, because for the first time in long Sting finds that he has absolutely no idea what the other is thinking.

He wonders if it’s the same for Rogue or if it’s their fight that makes the silence between them so awkward.

_(Probably, he acknowledges, it’s both.)_

“We’ve both been handling this badly,” Rogue offers him after another moment that almost stretched to infinity, and Sting can’t help the short snort that escapes him, because that at least is truth and understatement all at once – he can admit to that much – and steps a little aside so that Rogue can join him at the rail.

Rogue takes the invitation and the next stretch of silence that follows is at least a little more comfortable (though still more awkward than it’s ever supposed to be between them), until he finally finds the nerve to address the issue that is still hanging in between them.

“It’s not right,” he says. “It’s not what a guild should be.”

That’s not for us to decide or judge about, Sting thinks and replies: “It’s what Sabertooth is. And we are proud members of Sabertooth.”

“Proud members of Sabertooth…”, Rogue echoes and there is something faintly alarming about the way he lets that sentence trail, as if he was considering, as if there was ever any doubt.

_(‘Aren’t we?’ Sting doesn’t say, because the idea that Rogue may falter and leave terrifies him just a little, because Sting is not sure if he would follow. ‘Isn’t this what we decided?’)_

But before he can press the issue, before he can do anything to push at those doubts and chase them away, Dobengal clears his throat behind them and almost makes them both flinch.

“The Master is calling for an assembly,” he says and disappears in the blink of an eye, effectively ending their discussion, because the Master has called and is not to be denied – no matter if it have only been four days since the last time he's demanded their presence or not.

_(Sting cannot tell whether to be thankful for this or not.)_

* * *

As it turns out, the reason for this assembly is the very same as that of the last one. It’s unusual, even with their Master’s strictness and temper… Sting can’t think ever hearing of two instances warranting excommunication happening within the same week.

_(Because every time is a swift reminder of the price of failure, of why exactly none of them must ever show weakness, even – especially – to each other.)_

He only listens with half an ear as the Master lists the reasons why the poor idiot before him got singled out (something about a failed mission, he thinks) and lets his eyes flicker to Rogue instead, watches for any hint of what Rogue might think about the spectacle before them, but Rogue is still and unmoving and the expression on his face is utterly unreadable.

Not yet a week past, they had watched Marie standing before the Master – Marie, who is older by three years, who joined just the month before them, who is tall and strong – especially for a girl – and whose violin magic is one of the most beautiful things that Sting has ever seen and heard.

“I’m not much of a fighter,” she had laughed the first week they had known each other, and still, the one time she had joined them on a mission, she had more than held her own. Rogue had tried to teach her the songs and tunes passed down to him by Skiadrum – though the mediocre success is more on him than on her, and what she made of it was just as beautiful, but all her own – and outside of Sting and their cats, she’s been the one Rogue had been the closest to in the last seven months.

Sting remembers his own disbelieve as he had watched her argue with the Master – she’s never lacked on bravery, even in moments when maybe she should – as the Master accuses her of embarrassing the guild (adding insult to injury considering the story Sting had heard, considering the fading bruises on her wrists and at her sides that speak of being ganged up upon) – and he remembers snapping out of it when he noticed Rogue trembling faintly beside him, remembers not even thinking before shifting to step on his toes and snap him out of that train of thought. Nobody else saw, he thinks, nobody else noticed how close Marie’s humiliation before the guild had been to tripping the faint wire of Rogue’s temper.

_(And it’s good that way, because Rogue doesn’t have the power to challenge the Master, would fall short even if Sting were to help him, and they cannot afford to be booted out as well.)_

There is no need for that in the now; there is no trace of Rogue’s anger in the present. Instead, he keeps his face unreadable – at least until he lets his eyes drift away when the boy in the front is forced to strip, and Sting is aware, by the time the Master is done with him and they are finally dismissed again, Rogue has reached some kind of decision.

So has Sting – they are talking again, and they ought to finish that at some place where there won’t be any chance of unpleasant call-backs like this one, and if he can let off some steam at the same time all the better – and the moment they are alone in one of the hallways, he shakes his head and turns to Lector. “And there I heard that this Jaydon-guy was supposed to be some kind of hotshot equal to any of the Strongest Five. What kind of mission did he fail anyway?”

“There’s some Dark Guild called Shooting Vampire making trouble down in the South,” Lector answers, eyes gleaming as he catches onto Sting’s train of thought. “Turns out they had some kind of trap laid out ever since the council approved the request to take care of them and Jaydon walked right into it. The only reason he got out in one piece is because he had some help from some local mages.”

“That so.”, Sting can’t help grinning, because yes, this sounds just like what they need right now. Most traps that those Dark Guild losers could think of probably won’t factor in facing a Dragon Slayer – never mind two – and even if Jaydon is no longer part of their guild…

“We ought to go avenge him, don’t you think?” he says as he turns to Rogue, expecting to see a headshake caught between fondness and exasperation and at least the hint of a smile, but what he is met with the same unreadable expression that Rogue had sported through the assembly.

“I don’t care either way,” he says, his voice so much flatter than Sting can ever remember hearing it.

_(“Don’t you care?” he had hissed at Sting not even a week ago in this very hallway, fury burning in his eyes. “She was our friend.”_

_“She was too weak to stay,” Sting had answered, feeling his own temper rising._

_From there it had gone downhill and he can’t even quite recall how and why their magic got involved; only the utter shock on Rogue’s face that must have mirrored his own in the precise moment that they had realized what had just happened.)_

Sting doesn’t know how to reply to that, not until Rogue has already brushed past him, down the hallway towards the guildhall and the mission request board, and only snaps out of it when Rogue finally glances back to him over his shoulder. “Well. Are you coming?”

‘This was you idea after all,’ goes unspoken, but Sting can read it clear, easily from Rogue's face and stance and that fact has him laughing as he runs to catch up to his partner, finally certain that things are looking uphill again.

“Let’s hurry. We can’t have Rufus or Orga snatch that request from right under our noses.”

_(The mission is a success, just hard enough to keep them on their toes, but not nearly enough for failure ever to be an option. Fighting together is as easy as Sting remembers it being, is as much of a rush, is as much a delight._

_It’s only on the way back home, that Sting finally dares to bring up that unfinished conversation from the balcony – finally dares asking if Rogue is considering to leave and he has never felt stronger relieve than the moment that Rogue curtly shakes his head without any hesitation._

_“Sabertooth is home,” he says and as far as Sting is concerned, that ends the issue for good.)_

_\--- FIN ---_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion fic to Chapter 02. There is a reason this whole collection is called Two Sides after all. |D

Rogue used to be more expressive, Sting sometimes thinks to himself in the quiet pause just after his partner shuts off his teasing with a single remark. Years ago, he would have indulged him and they would have bantered, would sometimes easily escalate into a lighthearted scuffle (a – maybe slightly childish – contest of wit and strength but never magic, they had thought, a game just between the two of them; an unworthy display for anyone aspiring the seat of the strongest, the Master had declared and that’s why Sting doesn’t even think much of it anymore when he squashes the impulse to reach over and tug on Rogue’s cheek or on the fringes of his hair until his partner is fed up enough to retaliate properly); but those days are long past now and Sting hardly mourns them.

They are different people now, no longer the still-near-children that once roamed not quite aimless and yet without true direction through Fiore, no longer just aspiring to be as strong as those that walked the path of Dragon Slayer before them, to reach for even greater heights – no, they are Dragons in their own right now, proudly soaring their skies. They have made themselves an entirely new kind of breed – not just trained by a Dragon or forged by lacrima, but both at the same time; though the one thing that will forever truly single them out among the Dragon Slayer is the blood of their parents on their hands. Sting has come to wear it like a badge, a mark of pride because he has done what Natsu-san and Gajeel-san and Wendy-chan couldn’t.

He’s killed a dragon and so has Rogue, the result has left them marked in soul and magic alike and nobody else will ever understand what that truly means – nobody but them. No other being, not even any other Dragon Slayer, can.

Lector never will, for all that he is the very first to jump in defense of Sting’s honor – though that in itself is the most precious gift Sting could ask for anyway. The time before Lector… it’s truly nothing to be dwelled upon – the loneliness of those days started to ebb away the moment a small, red-furred cat insisted on becoming his student and was forgotten for good under the moon on a rooftop in Magnolia when he first met the then-boy that is his partner, his brother, his  _twin_  in all but blood.

It’s been so long since that first proper promise they made, a month after they met – years that passed with what seems a blink of an eye in hindsight – since the evening that he and Rogue laid back in the grass, stared up into the red-stained evening sky and swore that they would become the strongest of them all, the night that Sting came up with the moniker “Twin Dragons”, the moment they finally found a definition for themselves.

_(“…I guess, I could do worse,” Rogue told him after a moment of thought, when Sting had proposed that nickname._

_"Worse than what?" Sting asked, face scrunching into a frown._

_"Worse than you for a twin," Rogue smirked and that in itself would already be challenge enough._

_"Now you are just asking for it," was the only warning he got before Sting launched himself at him and they went tumbling through the grass.)_

Rogue used to have a temper back then, irritation and anger flashing brightly in his eyes as he squared his shoulders just the moment before he pounced at Sting. Nowadays, any jab Sting throws at him seems to slide off without even the slightest hint of reaction – “I have no interest,” he keeps saying and just continues on without a word of reply whenever Sting names him the liar he is – and the only reason Sting knows when he’s hit a mark (for all that it might have him flinch inwardly in regret sometimes) is because he knows Rogue just that well.

_(It’s all still there, all bottled up beneath the smooth surface of Rogue’s expressionless façade of disinterest and if Sting thinks about that for too long, he chills at the idea of what might happen if the threshold is ever breached and Rogue stops giving a damn about pretending that he doesn’t care at all.)_

Sting knows he’s changed too; he’s shed the wild kid that used to jump without thinking and has become someone more focused, more refined instead. Someone befitting the ways of the Strongest Guild.

They are what time made them – the Twin Dragons of Sabertooth, the only two of the Third Generation, spearheads of the Strongest Five – and even though the path was long and costly, Sting would never dare to think to complain. This is what the night in Magnolia, the time wandering, that very first fight against the Young Mistress, each and every request they’ve taken, each and every battle they’ve fought – side by side, always – have led them to become and one day there’ll be a chance to prove that it was all worth it.

_(There is a distance now that didn’t use to be; a sacrifice made for the power gained in recent years. Sometimes there are moments – the pause before Rogue shuts him off, the even longer pause that follows after – that seem to stretch into the endless, that are almost enough to make Sting wonder, but when they fight together they slide seamlessly into place and become a powerful twine of light and shadow that cannot be severed, even by themselves and that ought to be assurance enough, shouldn’t it?_

_“Don’t cling to the past,” Rogue tells him often enough, but Sting is well aware it’s not him he’s trying to convince.)_

* * *

It’s no secret to Sting that Rogue is discontent with the state of things within their guild – unlike the rest of them, who think his partner stoic and arrogant, Sting can read the lines of his faint frown, the way his head tilts sideways when they witness the Master dish out his punishments and the way he averts his eyes at the end every single time.

They used to argue a lot about that in the early days – never to the point of shoving or even actual blows, but Rogue had always thrown him that same unhappy frown by the end, the one that means that the issue is dropped for now but never forgotten; at least until that one day when they had ended up trading punches and using magic from one second to the next, and that’s when things started changing, that’s when loud words kept in private between them became muttered whispers. At some point they had disappeared almost altogether. It’s good riddance, in Sting’s opinion, because sometimes he can feel Rogue’s doubts echo in his being, but they’ve already gotten too far to change course now, he thinks.

_(The idea that Rogue may be right in his doubts is too terrifying to consider. It’s so much easier to sigh and laugh, to brush it off as things that cannot be changed and remind himself that the weak deserve to be left behind.)_

He can feel Rogue’s eyes linger on him every single time he walks away afterwards, but he’s learned to ignore the feeling of them – so what if he’s earned himself a rebuke as well this time around; it’s not like any of them could have known that this day’s game would involve any kind of blasted transportation device and they’ll both make up for it during the tag team battle part of the Games at latest.

They’ll be able to prove that it was all worth it either then or on the last day, surely. Now that Natsu-san and Gajeel-san are both back (are fighting for reasons that make him shake his head, but it’s just as well) it’s just a question of proper opportunity for battle and just the thought makes Sting shiver in anticipation. They have always aimed to surpass the level of their elder Dragon Slayers – Sting because of his promise to Lector and Rogue because of past connections that even Sting knows only bits and pieces of – and for too long it had seemed that they would never be able to know for sure if they had managed, until the news had hit at least, the return of Fairy Tail’s missing members loudly proclaimed over any and all papers.

Now, it’s finally, finally time to surpass that wall once and for all, to fight and win and keep the promise made now almost a decade ago.

_(It’s not just him, he knows; Rogue, too, has interest in the battle to come – for all that he might proclaim otherwise. He’s seen the way his partner’s eyes linger on Gajeel.)_

He gets a taste of things to come when Natsu-san storms into the halls of Crocus Garden, shouting challenges for their Master over matters that aren’t his to be concerned with (madness, madness, madness surely) and then matches him for three blows before the Young Mistress appears to break up the battle.

Natsu-san is  _strong_  no doubt, strong like Sting imagined and maybe even beyond that considering that strange Lightning Flame Mode. It will be a fight worth having, he knows, one that will prove beyond any doubt and reproach that the path they’ve taken and the decisions they’ve made were the right ones.

He has waited for this chance for seven years and looking up to the near-full moon high up in the sky, he knows for sure that the moment of truth is near.

_(Something about Natsu-san’s onslaught to their lodgings has made Rogue thoughtful, Sting knows, that has been making his partner’s doubts all the more apparent, and when they part that evening before battle, there is a moment it feels like they’ve never been further apart._

_The feeling is gone by the next day though and when they enter the arena, they move in cadence again._

_This is not a battle they are meant to lose.)_

* * *

It was not a battle they could have won.

Sting knows this with soul deep certainty as he stands before the Master and the guild, head bowed in shame as he tries to search the words that describe the utter inevitability of that defeat, the impossibility of Natsu-san’s strength.

Rogue is the one who finds them – for all that he says that there are no words to describe their loss – is the one that manages to say something at least. Sting is too caught up in it all even hours later, is too shell-shocked by the sheer difference in strength to comment on it, and too certain of what lies ahead.

He has failed the second time in row. There are no excuses left for him and he can’t even hope that at least Rogue will be spared.

He hardly resists when the force of the Master’s raw magic pushes them back and to the ground, doesn’t dare to lift a hand to protect himself when the punches start raining down or to cover his ears in the ever lasting minute that the Master shouts at them.

 _‘EraseThemEraseThemEraseThemERASE THEM’_ , he shouts – louder, so much more furious than when he demanded it of Yukino or Marie or Jaydon or all the others that Sting has witnessed being forced to leave the guild over the course of the years.

It’s Lector’s voice that cuts through it all, trembling at first but quickly growing much more steady as he defends them both, promises that they’ll grow stronger from the experience they’ve won in defeat.

“I’m still proud of Sting-kun,” he says, even though Sting lost, even though he wasn’t able to keep the promise he made and at that very moment Sting wants nothing more than to pull his cat close and apologize, to tell him that he’ll definitely do better the next time he challenges Natsu-san, to thank him for all the times that he was there, that he believed.

For the very first time, Sting is truly aware that it’s Lector’s faith that is pushing him forward, that it’s always been that from the very moment they first met.

Then Lector disappears in a flash of light and Sting’s world stands still.

Sting hardly registers anything that follows – not how Rogue cries and leaps to cover Frosch from suffering a similar fate, not the state of utter shock and disbelieve that has captivated the rest of the guild, not the tears that have started running down his cheeks. Instead, that one last moment – the look of shocked surprise on Lector’s face as the Master attacks him, the last whisper of Sting’s name – replays over and over and over in his head. It can’t be real, he thinks, but reality is starring into his face and Sting cannot deny it anymore.

There is a Dragon’s sorrowful roar echoing in the room and it’s only later that Sting realizes that it was his own. He is too busy screaming –  _what have you done, WHATHAVEYOUDONE_ – and the moment that Jiemma has the audacity to trivialize Lector’s loss, Sting moves without thinking, the White Dragon’s piercing magic at his fingertips with just a flash of unspeakable rage.

He is hyperaware of the blood rushing in his ears, of every single tremble of anger that shakes his body as he stares down at the fallen figure of the guild master, caught up between sheer outrage and faint shock that he truly dared to attack the Master, that he took him down in just one blow.

The Young Mistress steps in before he can waste another thought on whether to take another swing – how dare he touch Lector  _howdarehe_  – and takes control of a situation that Sting is barely capable of truly wrapping his head around.

He hardly comprehends what she tells him about the power he’s just unleashed, can’t see how he could ever defeat Natsu-san even with that – how can he even waste any thought on that when Lector is gonegone _gone_ , how does any strength he might uncover in wake of that even matter when Lector won’t be there to cheer for him, to watch as he finally keeps his promise after all?

_(And then Minerva restores and crumbles his world all over within the span of three sentences, and leaves him kneeling on the floor, trembling, sobbing, begging at first and then terrified at the look in her eyes, at the realization that she will harm Lector, if he doesn’t comply, that he will never see his cat partner again, if he doesn’t bring Sabertooth victory.)_

Sting isn’t sure how long he knelt in the meeting hall of Crocus Garden, but it’s Rogue’s hand on his shoulder that steadies him at last, Rogue’s fingers in his jacket that pull him back up to his feet. It’s Rogue, who gently nudge him all the way to his room and for once Sting has no desire or intention to stomp the instinctive impulse that tells him to pull his partner along into the room so that they can curl up and sleep next to each other the way they used to when they were kids, to seek comfort in that, but when he thinks to turn at the threshold of his room and reach for the other, Rogue is already gone and all Sting is left with are the empty shadows of his room and the faintly lingering scent of Lector’s presence.

_(It’s the first night in over a decade that Sting spends just by himself, that he doesn’t fall asleep to the soothing sounds of someone else’s breathing._

_It’s so much more lonely than he remembers.)_

* * *

When Sting awakens the next morning, he spends a fleeting moment hoping against hope that it was all a dream, that in a minute or two he’ll hear Lector’s ever cheery morning greeting, except what’s the use – no matter how much he pretends, he knows all too well that Lector isn’t with him.

_(It’s his very own senses that won’t truly let him fool himself, his own ears that tells him that he’s all alone in the room, his own nose that notes any scent of Lector as over a day old._

_It’s moments like that when being a Dragon Slayer is more curse than blessing.)_

The lack of deeper connections of anyone within the guild (with exception of Rogue) seems a blessing in itself right now, because nobody cares to knock and wake him – nobody dares to probably, considering the display from the evening before – and that’s just fine by Sting; anything they’d have to say would probably be just hollow and fake anyway (just like everything he and Rogue had thought accomplished in the last seven years, but as it turns out, they still have ways to go).

As tempting as burying himself and trying to forget his despair over the situation at hand might seem, it’s not going to bring Lector back to him. Only winning the Games will accomplish that, and no matter how much power he’s gained, he won’t stand any chance of winning unless he comes up with some kind of strategy for the day ahead, Sting knows.

Except that his thoughts keep running circles back to Lector, except that any resemblance of focus keeps escaping him until Sting finally admits, it’s no use to keep trying this by himself and not even two minutes latter he swings himself from his balcony over to that of the only person he can trust beyond reason.

The already opened balcony doors are the first thing that registers with Sting as he straightens to enter, but he freezes on the threshold when he comes to face with Rogue, and though he hadn’t even thought about the impulse that had led him to take the jump from one balcony to the next, somehow, in this very second, facing his partner is so much more awkward than he can ever remember it being.

_(Between Lector’s absence and Sting’s resulting power gain, they’ve been left off balance with one another – in so many ways that can’t be properly articulated – and neither of them quite knows how to deal with that.)_

It’s Frosch, who breaks the silence between them in favor of rushing over and offering him a hug of comfort – it’s not enough to fill the void in his being, nothing could ever be enough for that, but Sting appreciates the thought and the reminder.

He is not the only one that misses Lector.

“I need to save him. No matter what,” he finally says, hands clenching into fists as he meets Rogue’s eyes.

 _I need your help_ , he doesn’t say. He doesn’t have to, he knows – they both know that tomorrow’s game is crucial in more ways than one, that it may only be a one-point-difference between Sabertooth and Fairy Tail, but that there’ll be so many more to gain on the last day and figuring it out will take both their heads.

They sit knee to knee on Rogue’s bed as they do their best to guess at what form the last game will take – it will be some kind of team battle or battle royal; that much is easy to predict. Everything else is harder, but this is their fourth time taking part in the Grand Magic Games and it’s that experience that allows them to predict some of the other guilds’ moves – and that of their own.

“If it’s really going to be all against all, then winning won’t be as much about strength as about endurance,” Rogue concludes after a while. ”Even mages like Jura or Kagura get exhausted, if they keep being forced into battle.”

Even mages like Natsu-san, neither of them quite dares saying aloud.

“In that case my strategy is clear,” Sting starts after a moment of consideration. “I just have to wait them all out. No matter where they let us fight, the area will be big. There’ll be plenty places to hide and wait until everyone else is exhausted. And the moment they are… I’ll just take them out, all at once.”

It will be child’s play, he wants to laugh – boast and self-assurance all in one, but given the opponents in the game to come and, much more importantly, the stakes he’s playing for, he doesn’t dare. Lector’s life is nothing to joke about or bet on.

But even so, Rogue looks faintly skeptical: “Do you really think you can do it?”

“Of course. Do you doubt me?” Sting shoots back with a snort of angry challenge, but he backs down the moment their eyes meet and he realizes that Rogue hadn’t questioned his new found strength but rather…

“Is that really how you want to win?”

 _It’s not_ , Sting doesn’t say, because in truth they both know that already. The fight he wants to have is straight up – without any tricks, without any need for this kind of strategizing. That is his pride talking though, and he has no place or mind for that while Lector’s life is at stake.

“It’s how I’m  _going_  to win.”

And he isn’t going to let that be up for debate anymore, he silently swears as he holds Rogue’s gaze… until the other tilts his head down and sighs in resignation. Between them, Frosch quietly whispers their names, making them both turn their heads and look at her – she looks so small when it’s just her without Lector around to give them presence, and the misery that his absence and the current topic of conversation is causing her is written all over her expression.

“Stop making that kind of face, Frosch,” he says finally, flashing a grin at his partner’s cat as he pats her head. “Just watch; I’m definitely going to get Lector back to us tomorrow!”

There is no alternative. He can’t bear thinking about a world without Lector at his side.

It’s Rogue’s next words that snap him out of that grim line of thought, that make his stomach twist with an entirely different kind of dread.

“In that case, I’ll be going after Natsu Dragneel,” he says straight out, and Sting wants to laugh because that just got to be a joke, but he knows too well… Rogue would never make a joke like this. He wouldn’t have even back when he had allowed himself to smile at anyone other than Frosch.

“Run that by me again,” Sting finally says; he really can’t have heard that right. Rogue has no interest in fighting Natsu-san, he’s said so himself not even a day ago.

…Or maybe he’s heard right after all, given the way Rogue is scowling at him. “I’m going after Natsu Dragneel tomorrow.”

Yeah, he’s heard right.

“But you can’t beat him,” he protests; it’s not an insult, it’s fact – they both  _know_  it’s fact after yesterday. Hell, right now Sting is the stronger one of them and even with the strength born from emotion, from his desire to rescue Lector… despite Minerva’s words Sting can’t say for certain if that will be enough to beat the older Dragon Slayer.

Natsu-san is a class of his own.

Rogue knows as much, knows it maybe better than Sting, because he chooses his own battles with much more care and thought (and it’s all in his face that he’s given this some thought too, that this isn’t a sudden slip of lunacy): “That won’t matter for your strategy and if you want it work, you’ll need someone to exhaust him first anyway. It might as well be me.”

Sting wants to hiss and argue – he doesn’t want Rogue to play any sort of pawn sacrifice, not for him, never for him, would prefer to stick together no matter how disconnected they feel at the moment, but Rogue cuts him off before he can even get started.

“It’s not your decision to make.”

He can’t argue with that, not when he’s facing Rogue at his most stubborn, and not when just barely a day ago, he asked Rogue to step back, to let him take on the older generation all by himself, and Rogue complied despite his own stake in that fight, despite the fact that fighting Gajeel is so much more personal to him than it will ever be to Sting.

Which makes the only argument he has left to counter this plan: “What about fighting Gajeel-san?”

_(Isn’t that all Rogue had cared for in this set of the Games? Isn’t defeating Gajeel-san his aim, like defeating Natsu-san is Sting’s? Even with Lector on line, does he really want to miss his chance on deciding that fight properly like he hadn’t been able to during the Tag Battle?)_

Rogue’s gaze drops at that, his eyes drifting to the distance like they always do when he lingers on times long gone, on things that happened before they met and that Sting knows he doesn’t even know half of, before he sighs and replies: “There’ll be another chance for that.”

And that settles that for good.

_(They spent the rest of the afternoon going over alternate variants of how the next day’s game might go, well aware that it’s probably all theory. They both know the plan they will have to go with and they both know it’s far from ideal, but it’s for Lector’s sake and that is all that truly matters._

_It’s going to be fine, Sting tells himself when he finally turns in for the night._

_One way or another, defeat is not an option after all.)_

* * *

Sting feels strangely calm when he follows Minerva into the arena on the next day, feels a serenity he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of the day before – for all that his thoughts still continue to circle back to Lector again and again, for all that his sense won’t let him forget because he cannot hear Lector’s cheering, that he can only hear the audience muttering about his absence… the memory of his cat partner’s presence is heavy here, is encouragement enough, because right at this moment the path forward is clear.

He’ll get him back. He won’t lose anymore.

Fairy Tail’s entrance brings surprise in form of Natsu-san’s absence, a stroke of luck surely – and while Rogue startles at that discovery, Sting can’t help but relax just a tiny bit – this can only make things easier for them, and it leaves Rogue free to go for the fight he’s been meaning to have all along, the fight he had meant to give up for Lector’s sake.

_(Rogue will still be fighting alone, but it will be alright. His battle against Gajeel-san isn’t one that Sting has any business being involved in anyway.)_

There is no joy in battling today, no excitement, no delight, no thrill like Sting usually feels it. Taking down a mage like Bacchus Groh would usually leave him laughing in excitement, but in spite of the five points he had just gained Sabertooth, Sting feels empty.

This is just a small step towards getting Lector back, nothing more.

_(He runs before Kagura can attack him as well, moves quietly through the streets as he searches for a good vantage spot to sit down and hide and wait. From now on that is all he can do.)_

Waiting is an endless instant spent half listening to the commentary of the ongoing fights and lingering on the last two days, on the regrets, on his now-gained resolve. It won’t matter how it plays out, ultimately.

Who fights whom, who wins against whom is irrelevant; Sting will take them down all the same.

And indeed, it all plays out like he’s hoped and beyond that. All that’s left is him, Team Fairy Tail and a margin of nine points – if he wins here, he’ll bring his guild the dramatic victory that will establish it on the zenith of Fiore’s mage guilds.

_(If he wins here, Minerva will return Lector to him, and that is all that Sting cares about right now.)_

He is confident when he stands before Fairy Tail, when he admits to having admired them, when he calls upon his magic – he is strong now, stronger than before and they are all exhausted; taking them out shouldn’t be-

Except that with every second passing, they seem to stand all the taller, a wall of untouchable strength and resolve despite numerous wounds, despite fatigue.

There’s a radiance about them that is beyond anything that Sting can properly articulate.

_(He can’t do it, he finally realizes, he can’t bring himself to move. They are so large, so unreachable, so utterly beyond his level of strength – and… he can hear Rogue’s question, his doubts from the day before echo in his memory and this time he can admit that his partner was right after all. This isn’t the kind of battle Sting wants to fight._

_Even more importantly, this isn’t the kind of battle Lector would want him to fight._

_No matter who he’s fighting it for.)_

Sting’s surrender is a mere whisper as he sinks to his knees and fails to keep himself from trembling – he’s messed up, he’s missed his chance, he won’t ever see Lector again and yet even if he had done it, if he had attacked, even if he had defeated them all… he wouldn’t have deserved to see him then – he knows this for certain.

He doesn’t deserve to see him now either, not the person he is now, not the person he’s become that isn’t the Sting that Lector has always admired, he won’t see him, he won’t ever see him again. He voices as much at Erza-san’s question, his voice a quiet murmur and he hasn’t felt so small since the years that had followed Weißlogia’s death, hasn’t felt this alone since before he had met Lector.

Sting has never felt this utterly lost in all his life.

And then one of the Mermaid Heel members calls out, but when Sting looks up he only has eyes for the sleeping cat in her arms.

Lector.

The next moment he’s up and running, stumbling closer – he doesn’t care how often he falls, that he’s crawling on all four, that he’s forgotten all words beyond Lector’s name or that there are tears freely spilling down his cheeks until he hugs his cat partner tight tight close – failure and despair forgotten in the face of this moment’s reality.

Lector is back at his side, is crying too, is safe is safe is  _back_  and that is the only thing that is important now and Sting’s world is whole again.

_(He’ll never ever let something like this happen again, he swears to himself then, he’ll never allow Lector to be taken again._

_And maybe rather than strive for strength for the sake of defeating Natsu-san, he’ll first try to become someone worthy of Lector’s faith. Someone who doesn’t think to forsake the people around him at the first show of weakness._

_It’s changed him, this whole set of games and the events of the last three days alike… but maybe that’s not a bad thing at all.)_

* * *

Sting is still a bit giddy from happiness when he finally returns to Crocus Garden – Lector is back and the loss in the games the furthest thing from his mind, despite the way the chorus of celebrations to Fairy Tail’s victory echoes through the streets of the whole city.

“I can’t remember ever seeing you so cheery in defeat,” is the greeting he gets from Rufus when they get in sight of the minstrel, but for once Sting can’t be bothered to rise to provocation – not now – and just grins in reply.  “The mood’s catchy.”

“I suppose, there is that,” Rufus concedes with a smile that is much more wistful than it is arrogant, and maybe they all have taken something from this night, maybe it’s not just him, but their whole guild that has tasted defeat and will now strive to grow, and for once not just in strength.

The King’s messenger arrives before Sting can find a way to articulate that thought though, and he and Rufus part right after that – the guild needs to be informed about the summon they’ve just received, but before Sting can even bother wasting much thought on what that might be all about, he needs to talk to Rogue.

_(There is so much to talk about, things that he didn’t quite understand until now, things that Rogue saw and tried to tell him… Rogue has always seen the importance of bonds, had always mourned the lack of them within their guild and that’s why there is nothing more urgent than to regain their own, than dispelling the ever growing disconnection between them that neither of them had known a way to address._

_He has apologies and a request to make, because tonight has changed him and Sting wants change their guild according to that, but he doesn’t want to do it without Rogue._

_Never without Rogue.)_

He leaves Lector to reunite with Frosch when he enters his partner’s room, maybe just a little startled when he catches sight of Rogue. Rogue is  _different_  than when they parted after the start of the game, not just because of the still bleeding gash that crosses his nose or any of the other cuts and bruises he must have taken away from his fight with Gajeel-san.

Rogue looks relaxed in a way that Sting hasn’t seen in years, like the need to keep up that uptight façade of indifference got ripped right out of him (and maybe that is exactly what happened, Sting wonders but never asks, because whatever happened will probably always stay between Rogue and Gajeel-san alone).

It’s a little startling how much easier it seems to know what’s on his partner’s mind without having to ask, to laugh together, to feel like somehow all the years spent under Jiemma have been stripped away, to touch their foreheads together without any hesitation at all (to keep himself from laughing when Rogue startles at the sudden invasion of his private space) and finally put his desire into words.

“When we get home, let’s make this guild into one that cares for its members.”

There is no greater joy than hearing Rogue laugh in reply.

“Alright.”

_(Ten minutes later, Rogue starts their first proper scuffle in almost five years, red eyes narrowing in warning before he pounces – showing off that flash of Rogue’s temper just like they used to._

_It takes another few minutes until Sting yields, almost chocking on his own laughter when Rogue finally lets him out of the headlock he’d caught him in, and rests against his partner’s side as he tries to catch his breath._

_“I really missed this,” he realizes then, and he has. The closeness, the ease, the silliness of this current moment… it’s been a long while since they had anything like this, since they allowed themselves to have it._

_He doesn’t need to turn his head to know that Rogue is smiling._

_“Me too.”)_  

_\--- FIN ---_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, how about a mage-duel? The two of you against the two of us.”
> 
> “As if that’d be any challenge!” Sting snorts dismissively. “Against the lot of you, just I will be good enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time (August 2014, oh god it’s been so long) I got the writing prompt " **VII. the chariot — last-second rescue** ” and well… now, two and a half years later, after digging out the doc named “Two Sides Chariot” again and again, the next installment of Two Sides Of A Coin is finally finished! |D
> 
> This takes place way long before the other chapters, at the time before the Twins ended up joining Sabertooth! 
> 
> Please Enjoy! :3

It had seemed like an easy enough job at first – for the likes of fourteen-near-fifteen-year-old Dragon Slayers at least. Daffodillia, the village they were staying near over the winter for the second year now had issued a mage guild request to take care of the bandits that that had been setting up to block the roads between the villages in the area, demanding passing fees from travelers and shares of food from any large caravan.  
  
Usually they don't take jobs like this, not when they have already gone out to the guilds – it's not until after the winter that they'll finally both have moved beyond the age requirement that most guilds issue, that years ago had kept Ryos from joining Phantom Lord – but after hearing the way their current landlady Old Shala cursed about the troubles the bandits were causing for the village... well, they hadn't really thought much about that or about why exactly those bandits were holding the surrounding area in chock hold with that much ease.  
  
_(In hindsight, they really should have spent a moment to think about the sheer numbers that kind of operation takes. Or why challenging bandits on their home turf is really just all kinds of Not Smart in general.)_  
  
About fifteen men down later, Rogue finds himself slowly but surely approaching the limits of his magic power just as he faces off with the leader of the group. It's almost funny, Rogue thinks as he just barely dodges the bandit's broadaxe, that had he been told maybe a year ago that he'd one day soon find himself thrown utterly off balance while fighting without Sting by his side, he would have snorted, shaken his head and deemed that impossible. Almost, because right now, locked in battle with a man that is very likely twice his size, very competent with his axe and even more furious, Rogue really, really finds himself wishing for his partner.  
  
Sting is still tied up with taking care of the other half of the group though, and so Rogue is stuck dodging swing after swing and weaving in and out of shadows as he waits for his opening to strike and clean up his end of things.  
  
Finally he finds what he’s been looking for – the slip of carelessness in the bandit leader’s defense that will become his downfall, lips pulling into a smirk when he surges forward right beneath the man’s swing–

And gasps just as quickly when he finds himself caught at the throat instead, the opening a faint, a trap and he’s realized it too late to escape, too late to turn back into shadows, it’s too risky when the grip is so tight.  
  
"Brat, I've been getting into fights with your kind since before you were born," the man snorts as he slams Rogue back, his head roughly colliding with the tavern wall, and between the resulting headache, the ringing in his ears and quickly building pressure against his throat, and for all that he tries, he can’t seem to find the leverage he needs to pry that hand open no matter how much he scrambles for it.

There are black spots building in his vision, and Rogue can just barely contain his panic as he keeps struggling to live.  
  
_(Gajeel would probably laugh at him, if he saw him like this – a Dragon Slayer contained by a non-mage, just how pathetic is that – and the thought makes him struggle only all the more; he will not die here._

_Not like this.)_  
  
Truly clear thoughts only return to him when that familiar smell hits and he finds just the strength to pull the bandit's fingers wide enough apart to rasp: "There's only one other of my kind left. You haven't seen him yet."  
  
There is nothing more satisfying than watching the bandit's faint frown of confusion change into pained shock when Sting's White Dragon's Ray hits him square in the side and blasts him off Rogue, who lets himself sink along the wall as he closes his eyes and reaches up to gently rub over his soar throat.  
  
"You are late," he tells Sting a minute or three later, when he knows by the smells and sounds that they are out of opponents and he finally feels the adrenaline spike that his almost death experience caused drain away.  
  
"Eh, I’ve never been big on punctuality," Sting tells him with a wry shrug and a grin that says ‘Thought you know that by now’ as he reaches down to help Rogue climb back on his feet, concern shadowing his face for a second, "You all right?"

“I’ll be fine,” Rogue assures him, eyes drifting to the now-knocked out bandit. “My pride suffered more than the rest of me anyway.”

Sting nods, mischief chasing worries off his face again as he nudges Rogue’s side with his elbow. “And how did it get to that anyway? Those guys weren’t that tough; I could have taken them by myself. Don’t tell me you half a month of field work made you lose your edge!”

“Keep that up and I’ll show you edge,” Rogue snorts in reply, shoving Sting off. That bandit had just got lucky; it’s not going to happen again. If there’s one thing the year with Gajeel had instilled in him, it’s never to allow himself to be caught off-guard the same way twice. It’s unworthy of a Dragon Slayer.

“But if you think it’s that easy, you can go have the next fight all to yourself.”

Lector and Frosch join them just in time to prevent that particular bout of banter from evolving beyond words – Sting smirks sharply (all but doesn’t say ‘Challenge accepted!’) before he turns to their cat partners.

“Excellent work as always, Sting-kun! Not that there was ever any doubt,” Lector declares as he inspects what remains of the bandit force – most of them unconscious, and those who aren’t too hurt and exhausted to do much more than play dead or give the occasional pained groan.

“Fro thinks so too,” Frosch agrees, setting down at Rogue’s shoulder and smiling happily when he reaches over to pet her head.

Then he frowns at the chaos and bodies around them, a thought occurring him as he turns to Lector: “…Do any of them have a bounty on them?”

His partner’s cat prides himself on keeping up with all kinds of information – is glad to lecture them about outstanding rewards, notable guilds and mages and other sort of trivia. It is his way to contribute to their team he says (not that anyone asks it of him – Lector and Frosch are part of their team, their family, regardless of what he does or doesn’t do), and it has become more than useful on several occasions and it is sure to become vital yet again. They won’t be able to collect the mission reward, not as independent mages, not when the request has already gone out to the guilds (Daffodillia ‘s mayor will be happy about the money saved by their interference), but that there are other ways to make money off this afternoon.

Even though they may not have taken on the bandits with any reward in mind (other than maybe Old Shala’s quiet smile upon hearing the roads safe and secured again), it would be stupid not to capitalize on any opportunity presenting itself from it.

Lector frowns in concentration as he hovers over several of the bandits’ faces, finally setting down on the stomach of their leader.

“I’m pretty sure this guy is Branmore the Oger. He’s wanted in at very least three districts, so the reward on him should be hefty,” he says finally, nodding to himself with certainty. That confidence changes to faint confusion, ears dropping faintly when he asks. “You are going to have to get him all the way to Daffodilia if you want to see any of that though. That’s a long way to drag a person that size, even for the two of you.”

Rogue turns to Sting, meeting his gaze – Lector has a point and they both know it. Out of near nowhere, Rogue can hear Gajeel’s laugh echo, can feel his large hand almost violently messing with his hair – he had never been anyone to the older Dragonslayer other than the _‘Midget’_ – and just the thought sparks at his temper. Just a look tell him that Sting feels similar – they won’t be thwarted by the fact that they still have a few inches to go until they are anywhere near what society considers fully grown, not today.

Not while there are two of them.

The moment passes and Rogue finds his attention caught by the reflection of late noon sunlight off a white tarp covering… _something_ through the open door to the adjoined room behind Sting. Sting shoots him a bewildered look but doesn’t ask as he follows him into the next room, a huff of understanding and triumph escaping him when Rogue pulls back the tarp to reveal a Magical Four Wheel Vehicle.

Who even knows how the bandits had gotten their hands on it or what for; maybe one of them had some latent magic ability – it doesn’t much more than that to power an SE-plug after all – or maybe they had hoped to sell it on the black market; it’s in top condition after all.

Whatever they had intended with it doesn’t matter anymore, not now. Rogue turns his head to meet Sting’s eyes again, mirroring his sharp grin with a smirk of his own.

“I think we just solved our transportation problem.”

_(“Has either of you ever driven anything like this before?” Lector asks, much more skeptical about this solution._

_“No,” Sting admits freely, shrugging. “But how hard can it be?”)_

* * *

As it turns out actual driving is a lot more difficult than Sting had assumed initially and by the time they actually do make it to Daffodillia, the vehicle has enough dents and scratches to showcase their progress. They make it into the city just before the gates close, the sun hanging low and dyeing the streets with shades of red and orange.

The guard on duty just sends a light frown their way when they heave Branmore through the station house’s entrance and then takes rest of the evening confirming his identity and interrogating them both about just how a fifteen- and a fourteen-years-old had taken down a wanted man worth a tiny fortune. By the time they enter the second hour of that argument Sting jumps to his feet and blasts the chair he was sitting on into ashes.

That effectively puts an end to that, even if the guard huffily informs them that he will dock the costs for that off their reward.

(Not that it matters much – not when they are about to earn _80.000_ jewels. It’s much more than they’ve ever managed to save up, more than any job has ever earned them. It’s not like they ever really need much money to get by, not living like they do right now, but it certainly won’t hurt to have.)

He’s still glows content with their success when they finally make their way down the road and out of town towards Old Shala’s farm – if they ever needed proof that the legal guilds’ age restrictions wasn’t meant to account for Dragon Slayers, they’ve got it now – enthusiastically turning towards Rogue,

“Hey watcha think, we ought to do something nice for–”

He never gets to finish that sentence, a sudden grab of his arm pulling him around to face a red faced hulk of a guy that glowers angrily down at him.

“Are you the bastards that stole our quest?” he hears a woman’s commanding voice ask – and turns his head to catch sight of a thin girl with a cold look in her eyes. So the giant had come with backup Sting thinks and eyes her, the way the giant is acting it’s clear that she’s the one in actual command here.

(There are guild marks on both of them, he notes, the head of a long-toothed tiger branding her arm and his abdomen. Hell if Sting knows what guild uses that sign though.)

Behind him, he can hear Rogue shift his footing – his partner is ready to fight, no doubt. Not that it’s necessary… just yet anyway.

“How rude; Sting-kun and Rogue-kun didn’t steal anything. You have no one but yourself to blame if you were too slow to heed these people’s request.” Lector states, his wings unfolding as he flutters up to the woman’s eye height.

“Keep out of this, cat-” she hisses and turns to Sting, “Do you always let your pets do your talking?”

“Like there is anything more to say,” he just snorts, neither impressed nor afraid of this woman or her entourage. “We fought those bandits and cashed in the reward for the bounty fair and square.”

Or as fair as the match-up between two teenaged Dragon Slayers and almost three-dozen non-mages will ever be.

“A couple of midgets like you?” The giant snorts, clearly disbelieving that story. “I don’t care what or how you did it; that money is ours. You’d better fork it over or else-”

“Or else, what?” Sting asks, and finally pulls his arm out of the giants grip. “If you think I’m handing anything to a couple of guild monkeys like you, you have another thing coming.”

“What was that?” the giant hisses, taking a step forward only to be stopped by the woman, who eyes Sting narrow-eyed. “So, how about a mage-duel? The two of you against the two of us.”

“As if that’d be any challenge!” Sting snorts dismissively. “Against the lot of you, just I will be good enough.”

“What- _Sting_!” Rogue protests before the other two even have the chance to process the insult. “Those are guild mages; you shouldn’t take that lightly.”

“More like a bunch of unbehaved monkeys. Besides didn’t you say the next fight was all mine anyway?”

Rogue stares at him but then shakes his head and sighs, the hint of a smile on his face as he relaxes and steps back to the side of the road, arms crossing. “Suit yourself. Don’t think I’ll step up to help if you wind up losing badly.”

_(It’s a lie and they both know it. But hey, Sting has absolutely no doubt that he will win this one anyway.)_

The giant still splutters enraged, but the woman watches him for a second then just clicks her tongue. “Fine by us. It’s your own funeral, brat.”

“Ava-” the giant protests, but finds himself cut off by one sharp look.

“We’ll see whose funeral this is.” Sting replies cockily, stretching his arms and loosening his shoulders before he slides into stance. “Are we getting this started, or what?”

Just as he speaks the last of those words, the giant rushes forward – he’s far faster than Sting had expected of him – one arm drawn back for a punch that he just barely manages to dodge and just as he spins for a counter, the giant is suddenly gone – a teleporter?!

A second later, Sting suddenly feels arms wrap around him from behind, kicking out to hit the giant in the shins while he’s lifted up with ease, incapable of struggling properly in that grip, and wincing when the giant shouts right by his ear.

“Do it, Ava!”

The woman just nods and claps her hands together, and Sting can feel her magic power gathering in the air as she quietly chants a prayer – his eyes widening as he recognizes type, the feel in the air, a sharp grin on his face as brilliant white power envelops him just a second after the giant lets go of him, phasing out just in time before the impact.

But instead of pushing him back, of scalding his skin like the holy mage had no doubt intended, Sting just feels a light tingling on his skin before he inhales the spell whole.

“Heh, you really call this holy magic? Tastes pretty lousy, if you ask me,” he says, reaching up to flick his thumb over his lips after he’s sucked in the last of it, arms flexing a little as he feels the magic surge through him, lips tugging up into a toothy smirk as his considers the woman called Ava, who seems to be paling more and more with disbelieve by the second. “How about I show you how that’s really done?”

He turns his head towards the giant, drawing it back slightly as he draws in breath and then releases his _White Dragon’s Roar_ right into him, blasting him off harshly into the next wall, then spins on his heels and pulls back his fist to fire off another attack right over the holy mages shoulder, narrowly missing Ava’s cheek.

For a second, silence reigns over the street of their fight, the woman’s knees slipping out under her from sheer shock – sure never has seen a Dragon Slayer before up close, this one, Sting thinks smugly.

Then, she draws to her feet with a cry – “Edmé!” – and stumbles over to her partner’s side. At the same time, Lector finally decides to consider the fight as over and drops himself on Sting’s head.

“You’ve overdone it again,” he scolds fondly, as Sting reaches up to scratch his cat partner between his ears while answering. “Nah… I think I’ve done just enough.”

He turns back towards Rogue, who is just shaking his head – clearly he’s in agreement with Lector’s assessment but before he can ask for sure, he hears an angry hiss from behind him: “Don’t think this is over yet!”

One look is enough to confirm that Ava has pushed herself back to her feet, one hand around her partner’s arm to help him back up as well. “You’ll regret messing with us, brat! No matter what happens to us, our mistress won’t forgive this slight against our guild!”

Sting just snorts and rolls his eyes, utterly unimpressed with her threat.

“You can tell that mistress person that the White Dragon will readily take her on any time. Though looking at you, I doubt she’ll be much of a challenge either.”

Ava just glowers at him and Sting is about to challenge her to speak her mind when he feels Rogue’s hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look at his partner.

“It’s not worth it,” his partner says. “And we have places to be.”

Sting frowns for a second, then nods and turns on his heels. Old Shala will have their hides if they aren’t home in time for dinner – whether they solved her bandit problem or not – and Rogue is more than right.

Guild monkeys aren’t worth getting worked up over.

_(“So, who the hell did we pick a fight with here anyway?” Rogue asks hours later, as Sting stretches sated and tired before wrapping himself into their nest of blankets in the bed that the four of them share._

_“I think I recognize the guild symbol,” Lector replies, nose scrunched a little as he thinks. “There was a spotlight on them in the Monthly Sorcerer a few months back; they are up and coming… the runner-ups in the last Grand Magical Games, I think.”_

_“Well, they aren’t going to get anywhere close to winning that thing with mages like that,” Sting snorts. “All bark and no bite, that bunch.”_

_“Fro thinks so too!” Frosch agrees before cuddling close to her partner._

_“There is no way they’ll beat either of you,” Lector decides with a nod. “The Twin Dragons definitely won’t be beaten by the likes of Sabertooth.”)_

\--- FIN ---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that was the story (or at least my version of) how the Twins first encountered Sabertooth. I still remembered how I meant to continue this story by changing to a certain Mistress’ PoV for the next chapter and tell the story of her involvement in the Twin’s joining the guild and the years beyond.
> 
> Will I ever actually write it? Well, who knows at this point… I can’t make any promises. |D;
> 
> In any case, please be so kind and leave a comment if you liked the story?


End file.
